


The New Us

by TenThousandBlueFeathers



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenThousandBlueFeathers/pseuds/TenThousandBlueFeathers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief moment of Tiva fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New Us

Tony rolled his shoulders and grimaced as his neck let out an audible pop. He had been hunched over his computer for hours now trying to finish all the paperwork that had been pushed aside during their last case. Funny how a homicidal clown could seem so very unfunny in triplicate. He sighed. 

McGee had finished at eight and thumbed his nose at him as he escaped to a belated birthday party for Palmer at Laser Quest, and even Gibbs had left the office by nine thirty. It was sad Saturday night, he thought to himself, when both the boss man and his probie made a break for it before he could. He wished he could dump this in a drawer until Monday, but Vance had left strict orders, and since he had returned from leave, nobody had wanted to cross him. The man had been through enough. The unspoken agreement stood that the least they could do for him was keep their heads down and their noses clean. That meant no complaining, or procrastinating, or loose ends. If Gibbs could do it, Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo didn’t have much excuse.

So here he was, weekend wasting away, and nothing but forms to look forward to. These follow-up reports were a painful price to pay for his field work - his real work. There was no joy in this part of the job. He stretched his arms above his head and let out a loud sigh. He wondered where Ziva had scooted off to. Sure, she was more efficient than he was when it came to this stuff, but she’d had a backlog from her time in Israel. There’s no way she was done already. He’d been looking forward to having a little company, and nothing broke up monotony like his partner. 

Tony stared at her desk. It was unusual for her to make a move he didn’t notice. It wasn’t that he watched her - at least not intentionally - it was more that his head sometimes seemed to operate on a string connected to hers, and when she moved, he did too. 

He’d missed that when she was away. On those long days when he didn’t even have an email from her, when she was healing without him on the other side of the world, he’d felt frustratingly incomplete. He kept replaying things he couldn’t change over and over in his mind, and it wasn’t only things that had happened to her. No. It was things he’d done. And said. Or never said.

It was the smell of his bed after she left it, and the memory of her lips on his from years ago. Then there were the punches she’d landed rightfully, and words that still took his breath away for their very wrongness ages after they had been said. It was a whole collection of stupid, painful, beautiful moments that couldn’t be undone or retouched to create a relationship different than the one they had. It was how he had dared to utter the words, “the new us” in front of McGee, only blushing later, in the car on the way home.

Not that he had any secrets from McGee. Not really. The poor guy was subject to every look, every “accidental” touch - he probably knew more about how Tony felt than Ziva did, and vice versa. As much as Tony had tried to keep this part of himself private, it was impossible when she was around. He could feel himself becoming more careless, more restless with the status quo. Even now, under the harsh fluorescent lights of the bullpen, he couldn’t help but think of her. 

He wished it could all be simple. If he could skip over the part where he had to admit anything to anyone and instead go straight to the white picket fence and two point five children, he would. Probably. He was ready for that. Mostly. 

He gave himself a little shake. But it wasn’t easy, because she was fragile, and he was half-broken, and neither of them were good at saying...things. The fact that they had finally reached the point where they could even insinuate still stunned him. It felt like a shock to his system sometimes, allowing himself to be so vulnerable with her when she had proven before that she could get angry and hurt him. And he could do things do deserve it. Had done. 

But that was the past, and this was the new them, and damn it, where had she gone?! If she had been sitting where she was supposed to be, he would be able to concentrate. He could push the complications aside and just rest in her presence. Instead, he was antsy and getting grumpier by the minute. Abby would have guessed rightly that he needed a hug, but he wasn’t Abby and he didn’t ask for things like that. And even if he did, there was no one here to give one.

It was a damn annoyance, that’s what it was. He needed to plow through this and maybe, he checked his watch, he could catch drinks with the laser tag crew after their game. He rubbed his eyes and squinted at the screen, trying to figure out where he had left off. 

* * *

When Ziva came up from the lab, she paused to watch Tony for a moment. He was squinting at the keyboard, hen-pecking his way through what looked to be his last report. He always leaned in too close to the monitor when he got tired, she thought. It was as though he imagined the force of his presence could will the work done faster. She smiled. Who knew? Maybe it did. 

“Hey,” she said softly. 

He threw up a finger in her direction, and although she hadn’t imagined it was possible, pushed his face even closer to the dim screen. His nose practically grazed it as he typed furiously. She leaned against her desk and grinned. 

As he finished and hit Print, he leaned back in his chair and raised his arms in victory. 

“Finally,” she said. “I was finished hours ago.”

“Really?” he asked, standing up to stretch. “What are you still doing here then? All the late nights we pulled this week weren’t enough for you?” 

She shrugged and turned to collect her bag. “I was waiting for you,” she said, directing her gaze intently on her desk chair. 

Tony stared at her. His instinct was to say something raunchy, or worse, sentimental. She made him awfully cheesy these days. He didn’t want to ruin the moment though, and if he opened his mouth, he figured he would. So he settled for a smile, which she eventually glanced up to see.

“Don’t you want to know why?” she asked, twisting her dark hair out of her face. 

Yes, his heart screamed. It was physically painful to keep his mouth shut, to bite back the word straining in his throat, but he swallowed hard and tilted his head instead.

“Tony? Are you...okay?”

He nodded. “I am.”

“You’re acting strange. Stranger than usual, I mean.”

He smiled and shrugged. 

“Just tired?”

“Yeah,” he said, crossing the few steps to stand beside her so that he could help her with her coat. 

She glanced up at him. She seemed to be trying to decide if he was making fun of her, or if something was genuinely wrong. He knew that look. She wanted to pry, but she wouldn’t. Not Ziva. 

“I just missed you,” he murmured under his breath as he went to grab his own gear. When he turned toward the elevator, she was still standing in the same spot, staring at him.

Impulsively, she took a step forward and embraced him, her arms wrapping around his waist and her head tucked into his shoulder. He allowed his bag to fall to the floor and reached around to hold her tightly. He sighed and rested his cheek on her hair. 

They stood like that, and after he had taken five slow breaths, he stopped counting and allowed himself to relax. 

After a long minute, Ziva squeezed him, and stepped back - not far, but enough so that she could look into his face without crossing that increasingly tenuous line they held. “Drinks?” she asked.

He had to break eye contact with her to process what she was asking. He wracked his brain. Nope. Still Nothing. “What?” he replied lamely.

“Do you want to grab drinks?”

“Drinks?”

“Yes, Tony,” she poked him softly in the chest. “Drinks. I think Palmer is...expecting us.”

“Oh,” he nodded, a little dumbly. “Palmer, yeah. That sounds great.” He smiled weakly.

She patted his chest, then reached down to grab his hand. “Maybe I’ll drive,” she said, a sly grin playing across her lips. “You seem half-drunk already.”

Tony just wrapped her hand more firmly in his. “Must be,” he said, “because you driving actually sounds alright to me tonight.”

She bumped her hip into his hard enough to break his stride, but he just pushed the button for the elevator and held onto her, tight.


End file.
